Till All Are One
by Starcee138
Summary: Primus has watched his children fight and kill each other for millennia and has long since grown weary of it. They say desperate times call for desperate measures, and he couldn't agree more. Now the Autobots and Decepticons must face the hardest challenge they've ever encountered- getting along.
1. A healthy dose of chaos

AN: Just wanted to say thank you for clicking on my story :) It's a different writing style for me, as I'm trying to balance the right amount of seriousness and humor, with mixed results. I'm dubbing this a pilot chapter, as I want to see what people think. I've never written G1 before, nor have I watched more than 10 episodes (my brain tries to melt if I try to watch more than two at a time) so most of my knowledge of the characters has been gathered from Google and other fanfictions. Con-crit it very welcome.

**Disclaimer: **As sad as it makes me, I don't own The Transformers. If I did, well... let's not go there.

I've actually tried to plan ahead for this story, and as of right now I have three chapters outlined and ready to be written, so hopefully I'll always have something to be working on. Despite that, there will probably be large gaps between updates and I'm gonna go ahead and apologize for that in advance. Updating is not my forte.

Let's see where this takes us, shall we?

* * *

"_It'll take a lot more than words and guns,_

_A whole lot more than riches and muscle._

_The hands of the many must join as one,_

_And together we'll cross the river."_

_-The Humbling River, Puscifer_

* * *

"Aft fragger." Sunstreaker growled, expression darkening as his optics focused on the screen. He was still except for the minute jerks in his arms as his fingers manipulated the game controller in his hands. The crimson and golden frontliners had been sitting in the rec. room for several hours, working their way through the ridiculously large stack of video games they'd purchased with money they had either stolen or conned someone out of. "How did you avoid my blue shell? I thought the rules said you can't get around blue shells."

Sideswipe shrugged carelessly and leaned back against the couch, working the controller with a bored expression on his face. "Must be a glitch or something."

"That's cheap." grumbled Sunstreaker, rapidly mashing buttons on his controller as if that would affect the outcome of his spinning prize box. Although the game involved racing, the yellow Lamborghini found himself quickly growing bored of it. It was too easy to tilt the little joy sticks to get around the colorful tracks. It held none of the excitement of a real street race, with top of the line models like themselves going against far less superior human vehicles. At least then they could get some exercise out of it, whereas there they were just sitting inside and wasting the day- not that they had anything else to do.

"Okay, new game." Sunstreaker announced as he was hit with a green shell that had been violently bouncing around the track.

"What's the matter? Mad that you aren't winning?" Sideswipe teased. He continued to operate his character's cart, even though Sunstreaker had set his controller down and his player was just sitting in the road, pounding on the oddly shaped steering wheel in aggravation.

"No. I'm bored."

"I win!" Sideswipe halfheartedly cheered when he passed the finish line. A large white 1st flashed on his portion of the screen, quickly replaced by the match stats. Sunstreaker wasn't impressed. "Have we played Halo yet?"

"Depends. Which one?"

"Reach."

"Nope."

Sideswipe heaved himself from the floor in front of a super-sized couch and crawled over to the game console to carefully replace the tiny Mario Kart game disk with Halo Reach. The black box beeped in recognition of the software and Sideswipe settled back as the opening sequence began.

A _ping! _sounded in Sunstreaker's audial. The frontliner ignored the communications request in order to focus more on the game. He frowned when another of the annoying sounds distracted him enough for Sideswipe to sneak up behind his player and kill him. Frustrated, Sunstreaker checked the incoming comm frequency and his optics narrowed. Prowl. He couldn't fathom what the uptight Praxian might want and figured if it were anything important, like Decepticon activity, it would have been announced over the intercom. If it were anything _other _than Decepticon activity, then Sunstreaker wasn't interested. Before another one of those annoying beeps could sound, he disabled his comm unit and went back to playing his game.

A few minutes later the twins were sucked into the game, optics glued to the screen as they played. _This _game was better than the last, mostly because it didn't involve driving in circles on ridiculous, impractical looking tracks. To his wicked delight, Sunstreaker quickly came to discover he was better at this game than his counterpart, who had resorted to angry and uncoordinated button mashing.

"Prowl keeps trying to contact me." The red mech announced, casting a side glance at his brother.

"Then answer him." _Primus forbid he try to assign us brig time for _ignoring _him. _Still, it didn't hurt to be safe. By using his twin as a Prowl-shield.

Sideswipe barked out a laugh, "Why in the _Pit _would I do that?"

Sunstreaker glared, "You didn't do something stupid, did you?"

He really laughed this time, "You think I'd risk losing my only day off by pulling a prank that could just as easily be done tomorrow? Fat chance. Planning, on the other hand- Hey!" he whined when Sunstreaker inexplicably paused the game.

"I thought today was my day off?"

Sideswipe frowned, "No, yours is next Tuesday."

The golden warrior only had the time to mutter, "Frag," before a very angry Praxian stalked into the room, door wings held high and a glint of anger sparking in his icy optics. To Sunstreaker's dismay, Prowl's gaze was settled hard on him; the frontliner had been hoping Sideswipe was the one who'd confused his days.

"Ignoring a superior officer, missing a patrol, skipping shifts-" The black and white mech rattled off as he came even closer to stand above the duo. "What do you mean to accomplish? Because of you, we've had a blind spot in the lower east quadrant for nearly twenty minutes now."

"Can you move?" Sideswipe cut in, "We're busy here."

Prowl spun sharply and yanked the Xbox cord from the wall. He gathered the box and its cables in his arms and smoldered at Sideswipe. "Now you aren't." His optics flicked over to Sunstreaker, "Patrol. Now."

"Wait! Where are you going?" Sideswipe called after him as he made his way out of the rec room. "I didn't do anything wrong, it's my day off! Prowl! Prowlllll!"

The Praxian shoved the black box into Perceptor's hands as he passed him in the hallway. "Get rid of that. I don't care how, just make sure those two don't get their hands on it." He vented in aggravation and tried to put the twin pit-spawns out of his processor. They were going to drive him to an early deactivation, he was sure of it.

Shaking his helm to clear it, Prowl exhaled the last of his anger and entered the meeting room, catching the gazes of Prime, Ratchet, Jazz, Red Alert, Blaster, Wheeljack, and Ironhide. He nodded respectfully to them and took a seat while Optimus rose from his and addressed them all, "The time has some to contact Elita on the Cybertron base for supplies. As energon is scarce, they cannot send much, so we must determine what the faction needs most."

Ratchet stood instantly. "Medical supplies, no doubt. With the Decepticon's frequent raids and general chaos, almost every day someone comes to me with a missing servo or broken leg strut." There he paused to send a dark look to Wheeljack, "And it doesn't help that _some _of us seem determined to injure themselves here, as if my job isn't hard enough."

Under his breath, Wheeljack muttered, "You'll thank me one day."

Ratchet's optic twitched, "What was that?"

Prowl leaned forward in his seat, claiming the CMO's attention before he could start throttling the inventor. "Respectfully, I disagree. Weapons should be our priority. If we had more firepower, we'd have less coming in injured."

"Here, here!" Ironhide grunted cheerfully, pumping a fist in the air.

"We should place an order for more standard issue blasters," Prowl continued, "They cost less to maintain and are easier to transport."

"Put in an extra order for me!" Wheeljack piped up, "If I could get my hands on a few of those, I could try to install-"

"Oh, no!" Ratchet growled, "You're all forgetting my medical supplies. More blasters means more battles and more injured. Besides, if we give any to _Wheeljack, _I'll need even more supplies to fix his sorry aft and everyone else who gets caught in the blast range."

"I don't blow up that often!"

"Believe me, you do."

"I'm sorry, but I think both of you are confusing your priorities." Ratchet arched an optical ridge and Prowl looked over at Red Alert as the Security Chief continued, leaning forward in his seat, "Above all else, we need to protect the base, and for that to happen we need a better surveillance system. Cameras, new monitors, updated scanners. We need all of that and more!"

"We need medical supplies!" Ratchet argued, "Not cameras, when ours work just fine! Red, you have the entire base covered 24/7 with video surveillance and scanners."

"Then how the frag do Soundwave's brats keep getting in?!" He shrieked, "There's a breach somewhere! We could have a traitor in our midst, or a pretender- anything is possible. _Something _is going wrong _somewhere, _and if we don't fix it-"

At Optimus' pleading look, Jazz gently dragged the still screeching security director out into the hall to calm him down.

There was silence for a moment before Prowl continued his campaign. "Red Alert does have a point. Infiltrations are a fairly regular occurrence that needs to be dealt with. While new security equipment may not be the answer to the issue, upgraded weapons may be. We would stand a better chance of terminating the threat if we had weapons with a slightly more accurate aim. As you all know, our models are now considered to be," he paused, "Outdated, as well as our weapons. The standard issue blasters manufactured on Cybertron these days are much lighter, easier to make, and more powerful. We could gain a lot by investing in this."

"Oh, you know exactly what would happen if we got a slew of new cannons and blasters!" Ratchet seethed, "First, we'd have an all-out fight over them, because some mechs are greedier than others. Then we'd have no distribute them evenly and lock away any extras, even though either the twins or Wheeljack would no doubt break in and steal them for their own devious plots anyway. Mechs would get cocky and think they could take on the whole Decepticon army, and then where would they end up? _My med bay!_"

At that point Jazz and Red Alert reentered the room. The security director looked a little tired from his outburst. "I don't see why we can't split the orders," the saboteur commented, easing Red into his seat and sliding into his own, "Get blasters and medical supplies. Everyone wins."

"I don't." Red Alert muttered.

"Yeah, and what if I need more material for my workshop?" Wheeljack input.

"Anything that goes in that workshop of yours disappears forever." Ironhide grunted ominously, shifting in his seat.

"You know, I'm getting really tired of you guys dissing me like that. I make stuff that works sometimes."

"And when it doesn't work, we have to scrape you off the walls." Red Alert yawned.

"Hey!" Wheeljack accused, "I thought you were on my side!"

"We're picking sides?" Blaster groaned. He placed his helm in his hands and sighed. A new club was opening up downtown that night, and at the rate everything was going, he wouldn't be able to make it.

"That's beside the point," Prowl interrupted. "Jazz, we'd need to order enough for everyone. Anarchy would be among us if some of the more" -his gaze flicked briefly to Ironhide- "volatile of the faction weren't included in the weapon distribution."

"We could withhold them until our next supplies shipment and give them out once we have enough. Nobody has to know we're getting more guns besides us." Blaster suggested.

"Oh, but I'll know," Sideswipe snickered, the glow from the security screens catching his face in an eerie glow.

Optimus waited for objections. He made optic contact with each of his officers, and other than a few unintelligible mumbling from the security director and slight pouting on Wheeljack's part, no one had anything else to say.

"Alright," the Prime announced, "That's that." He went over to the video comm system and waited as Teletran-One connected his call to the femme base on Cybertron.

"Optimus," Elita greeted as her face popped onto the screen. "How good it is to hear from you."

"Likewise, Elita." He replied. Ratchet rolled his optics.

"You don't have to talk like that. We all know you two frag."

"_Ratchet!_" Optimus hissed, faceplates heating in embarrassment. Elita blinked once and chuckled lightly.

"If you insist, Ratchet." She said, "It's nice to see all of you."

Optimus cleared his vocalizer to bring the attention back to him. "We've decided what we need-"

"You little glitch!" A voice shrieked from behind Elita. She swiftly turned and the Autobots leaned in to get a better look at what was going on. Chromia stalked into view, her entire body shaking with rage. "I can't believe you would break into my quarters without even asking me and take my stuff!"

A pink femme Optimus identified as Arcee turned to the blue femme and placed a hand on her hip. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"My special polish!" Chromia growled, "Ironhide got that for me as a gift."

"Like, what are you talking about? I didn't use any of your special polish." Arcee popped her ener-gum and shifted her weight to her other leg.

"You little liar, I can see it on you right now! You used all of it- I have none left!" Chromia took another dangerous step forward, prompting two of the femmes standing nearby to back up. Arcee stood her ground.

"Well, get over it. It looks good on me anyway."

"_I'll tear your optics out! It was a gift! From IRONHIDE!" _With a disturbingly feline screech, the blue femme flew at the smaller pink femme and slammed a solid punch into Arcee's jaw. The view was blocked when Elita turned to back to Optimus with a worried look. The sound of screams and snarls echoed through the monitor. Wheeljack winced.

"I'll have to call you back." The video feed cut but not before the officers heard Elita yelling, "Chromia, not again!"

Ironhide chuckled, "That's my 'Mia."

Blaster glanced around at the other officers and decided it wouldn't really matter if he decided to slip out now. He took a few steps backwards, and once he determined no one was actually watching him, ducked out. He strolled down the hallways humming a cheery tune and casually ignored the general chaos around the base. Upon reaching his quarters, he made a beeline to his stereo system and hit the play button, unleashing a loud blast of music from the expensive speakers.

Mirage cracked open his optics and glared at the walls, which were practically buzzing with the volume of the music. He gritted his dentals and took a moment to compose himself before exiting his quarters and smartly rapping at the door next to his. There was no response. Mirage frowned and knocked again, harder this time. Eventually he had to resort to beating on the door until the red mech it belonged to opened the door.

"Hey, Mirage!" Blaster screamed cheerfully, barely audible over Korn's blaring guitars. "What's up?"

"Turn that music down!" He yelled, "Some of us are trying to recharge!"

"Whaaaaaatt?" Blaster shouted, "I can't hear you over my music!"

"Turn it down!"

"What?"

"I said, 'Turn it down!'"

"Whaatt?"

"_TURN IT DOWN!"_

Blaster disappeared and the music stopped. "You didn't have to yell," he mumbled cheekily.

"Keep that off or at a respectable volume," Mirage said crisply, fully intending to go back to his quarters and pass out on his berth.

"Yeah, well, about that," Blaster began, leaning against the door frame, "If I keep it down, then I can hear everyone else fighting all around the base, and that distracts me from my music. So it's only logical that I keep it loud-"

"Or keep it off." Mirage cut in, "I am not in the mood to deal with this. I had dawn patrol and night watch tonight; I need my rest."

"That sounds like a personal problem," Blaster observed. "You know what I'm not in the mood to deal with? Fighting. That's all we ever do here! We fight and argue and injure ourselves, and when it gets to be too much, we find the Decepticons and use them to blow off the steam. So right now, I'm trying to pretend we're a normal faction."

Although somewhat reluctantly, Mirage had to agree. Hound had spoken of the same thing, which was why he was out of base so often. The arguments did get to be quite annoying, particularly when they were the same things they found over day after day. Still, that wasn't something Mirage could fix. The music, however, was.

"Keep it off or at a decent volume," He repeated, turning and stalking through the door to his quarters. Blaster contemplated turning it up even louder, but decided against it. Mirage wouldn't yell at him, but he could turn invisible, which was really handy when it came to getting revenge. No, Blaster decided, he'd just have to cut his losses.

(...)

"So, there I was, about to get a headshot on this Decepticreep, when I heard her scream." The crowd gasped at Rodimus's story. He smirked.

"What happened next?" Bluestreak gasped, for once at a loss for words.

"Don't worry, I'm getting to that. Now, I was down on the lower platform, and Arcee was up on one of the higher ones. I had no way to get to her before the four Decepticons did, so I-"

"You took on four Decepticons by yourself?" Cliffjumper asked incredulously, "You?"

Rodimus scowled from where he was sprawled, posing, across the back of the couch. His audience, which consisted of Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Huffer, Bluestreak, Silverbolt, Smokescreen and Trailbreaker were gathered around him, listening. Although he didn't know it, some were less than impressed.

"Of course, me!" He answered impatiently, "Who else would have been there? It was just me and Arcee. Now,"

"But what were you and Arcee doing all alone?" Bumblebee asked innocently, while some of the other mechs laughed.

"Don't worry about it," Rodimus mumbled, "Now, let's get back to the story. I knew time was running out, so I took a bow from a dead mech and tied a cable to one of the arrows and shot it up to Arcee's level. Faster than anybot has ever seen, I climbed the rope and got to her just in time to kill the nasty 'cons who dared look her way!"

Bluestreak and Bumblebee both breathed, "Wow!" in awe while Silverbolt and Cliffjumper snorted.

"Sounds a little too dramatic to be true," Silverbolt said. Rodimus glared.

"Yeah? Well, we wouldn't have seen you going up there, would we, scaredy-bot?"

Silverbolt stilled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Rodimus snorted, "What kind of jet is afraid of heights? I mean, come on! It doesn't make any sense!"

Silverbolt didn't outwardly flinch, but it was clear he wanted to. Cliffjumper glared at the flame-decorated mech; the kid was too damn cocky for his own good. His time of reckoning would come.

Apparently sooner than they thought.

Instead of stopping while he was ahead, Rodimus kept running his mouth, "You can't hardly get ten feet off the ground without screaming and nose-diving back down. Honestly, I'm surprised your idiot jet buddies still put up with-ACK!"

"What was that, punk?" Air Raid growled right in Rodimus's audial. The young mech froze, optics widening. "Got something to say about Silverbolt's "idiot jet buddies"?"

Silverbolt tried not to smile as Slingshot cracked his digit joints threateningly. Fireflight and Skydive stood beside their air brothers with fierce scowls on their faces as Rodimus turned around.

"D-did I say that? No no no, I was talking about the Decepticon seekers! Yeah, they're idiots! Real dumb, too!"

Air Raid snarled and drew his fist back, sending a punch flying right for Rodimus' face. The kid wasn't shipped to Earth for nothing, though; he had some moves on him. He flipped off the couch and rolled across the floor, springing to his feet, stance ready even though his expression was panicked.

Air Raid and Slingshot jumped over the couch at him while Fireflight came to stand over by Silverbolt, "You okay?"

"What, you think I'll be hurt by the words of some stupid youngling?" Silverbolt scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. Fireflight wasn't fooled.

"You don't like anyone bringing it up," He said softly, placing a hand on Silverbolt's upper arm.

Silverbolt was touched at Fireflight's concern, but waved it away all the same, "Don't worry about it, it's okay."

"Come here, you little twerp!" Slingshot yelled, jumping at Rodimus again.

"Me? Little?" Rodimus demanded, "I'm not the smallest member of my team!"

Fireflight clucked in disappointment as Slingshot froze in anger before tackling the brighter colored mech with a shriek. "You'd think he would learn to keep his mouth shut." A strange look came upon his face, "I'm gonna go see what Skyfire is doing." He started to wander off, but Silverbolt grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"You think he'll want you in his lab after…?"

Fireflight smiled, "As long as I pay attention and don't touch the vials with the human skull and crossbones on them, I should be okay." He moved away, sauntering through the door and further into the base. Silverbolt shook his helm and prayed to Primus that Fireflight would grow a larger attention span for everyone's sake.

(…)

First Aid sighed in relief when the doors to the med bay swished open. He stopped fiddling with the assortment of tools on the cart in front of him and turned, "Ratchet, I'm glad you're back. No one came in while you were- oh. Hello, Beachcomber."

The aforementioned Autobot stood just inside the med bay and didn't move. His optic band flashed as he looked around, taking in First Aid and then Swoop, who was sitting in the corner playing with a blowtorch. The easygoing mech cautiously made his way over to a free medical berth and gingerly took a seat on the soft padded surface. In the new lighting, the medical apprentice caught sight of the various dents and scratched covering the blue and white frame. "Wow, what happened to you?" First Aid asked, snatching a scanner from a shelf and waving it around before Beachcomber's chassis.

"Il y avait un glissement de terrain, mais je pense que je vais bien." Both bots froze and stared at each other. Beachcomber raised a hand and covered his mouth with it in shock.

"Um," First Aid said, "What was that?"

"Jeg ved ikke, hvad der lige er sket." He breathed, then gasped. "Ich verstehe das nicht!"

"Just- just calm down, okay? You probably, uh… what did you say happened, again?" First Aid blinked and waved his hands around, "Wait, don't answer that. I think your language translator got all screwed up." _And I have no idea how to fix that. _Ratchet had taught him many things, but that didn't mean he remembered everything and most of what had stuck was basic stuff. "Why don't you, uh, lay down here, and I'll fix the problem." _If I don't make it worse, _he fretted. While Beachcomber settled himself back, First Aid continued to look at the doors, hoping that any second now Ratchet would walk through and take care of things himself.

He jolted when he realized Beachcomber was waiting for him to start. He tapped the language-challenged mech on the throat. "I'm gonna knock your sensors offline and open you up to… to fix things."

"Não se ofenda, mas você sabe o que você está fazendo?"

He tittered nervously, "Aw man, I have no idea what you just said." First Aid hesitated only slightly before opening a panel on Beachcomber's neck and disabling all feeling in his throat. He relaxed slightly on the berth and the apprentice blew out a quiet sigh of relief. At least he remembered how to do _that_.

"What you First Aid doing to him Beachcomber?" Swoop asked, causing First Aid to jump nervously. It seemed the Dinobot's curiosity had gotten the best of him, as he abandoned the blowtorch and was currently standing directly behind the Protectobot, causing shivers to run down his spinal strut.

"Fixing him up," he replied vaguely, trying to focus on his work. He actually had no idea what to do, but hoped that if he played around with the right wires the problem would solve itself.

"Me Swoop can help." The Dinobot announced proudly, reaching for a miscellaneous tool on the cart First Aid had been fiddling with earlier.

"Oh, no Swoop, that's okay," he replied hurriedly, "I've got this."

The pteranodon was not so easily placated, "Me Swoop bored. Him Ratchet left me Swoop nothing to do. Me fix him Beachcomber's voice."

First Aid found himself gently pushed to the side, and helpless to do anything, watched as Swoop started rooting around in the poor mech's throat. Beachcomber stiffened considerably but knew better than to move when someone was messing with his internals.

"Peidiwch â gadael i hyn idiot yn fy lladd." Beachcomber murmured, offlining his optics.

_Oh Primus, I'm so dead, _First Aid thought miserably.

* * *

Swindle grinned as he slowly backed out of Vortex's room. Cautiously, he subspaced the electric whip he'd snagged and strolled down the hallway as casually as possible. Oh, he knew a few clients who would pay top dollar for a Cybertronian-made whip. He'd try to sell it to some mechs back on Cybertron first and hopefully get some high-grade out of the deal before he took his item to the humans. He had to be careful about that, though; when a terrorist group had shown up out of nowhere, Cybertronian pistols blazing, Megatron had nearly had his helm. _Note to self, _he mused as he made his way through the halls, _don't sell weapons to Al Queda. _

Humming quietly, Swindle climbed the stairs and entered the hall to his room. He didn't understand why Vortex wanted his room in the basement; weren't flight mechs supposed to get all panicky and weird when you tried to get them underground? Eh, he'd never understand the helicopter. _Makes it easier to nab his stuff, _Swindle reflected with a grin, _Less witnesses. _

::Swindle, what did you do?:: The comm from Onslaught was unexpected and made Swindle pause. The con-mech quickly typed in the access code to his room and hurriedly closing the door behind him.

::What do you mean?:: He replied a little too innocently, ::I didn't do anything.::

::Mmhmm.:: Onslaught grunted, ::Vortex just got twitchy. You know, like he does when someone's touching his tools?::

Swindle's optics widened in panic before he calmed himself, ::Well, whoever's messing with his stuff better watch out.::

Onslaught sighed, ::Why do you have to antagonize him?::

::What?:: Swindle protested, ::I didn't do anything!::

::So you're saying you don't have his whip?::

Swindle cursed his luck. How had Vortex gotten down there so fast? That meant the helicopter was probably already heading up to his room to demand his stolen goods back. _Ah, shit, _he internally cursed, liking the feel of the human swear word, ::…No, I don't have it.:: _Doesn't mean I didn't used to_. He smirked to himself and exited his quarters, searching for a victim.

Onslaught growled through the comm. ::If I find out you took it-::

::Big trouble, yeah, yeah, I know. Look, if I see Vortex, I'll help him find it, okay?:: Up ahead, Swindle spotted Rumble and Frenzy turning the corner, heading for the mess hall. _Perfect! _::Okay, thanks Onslaught, I'll talk to you later!::

::Swindle-:: He cut the call, interrupting his gestalt leader's warning tone.

"Hey guys," Swindle greeted, sidling up to the cassettes. Their conversation stopped and they turned to watch him apprehensively. Rumble glanced over at Frenzy and they simultaneously scowled.

"What do you want?" Frenzy snapped, crossing his arms over his small chest.

"Watch your tone, brat!" Swindle wanted to snarl, but watched himself. He needed them to _like _him for this to work. Instead, he smiled in what he thought was a friendly way but was actually a bit creepy and said, "Oh, nothing, just seeing how my two favorite cassettes are doing." _Too cheesy, _he thought, _back it off a little. _

"Bullslag." Rumble countered. "What do you really want?" The twins were wary of talking to the con-mech, since the last time he'd spoken to him, Swindle managed to get them to agree to a ridiculous scheme that resulted in them getting shipped to Uruguay. Their comm links had been disabled and they'd had to sneak onto an airplane just to get back to America, and even then they'd needed to walk back to base. _That _had been annoying, since neither Rumble nor Frenzy were in Soundwave's good graces at the time and couldn't tell him about their illegal escapade without getting in trouble for associating with Swindle in the first place.

"You guys aren't still mad about the South America thing are you?" Swindle asked, leaning up against the wall in a pose he thought was non-threatening. "I told you, they drew on me. I had to put you in the box to protect you!"

"Then why did we hear you thanking those stupid humans for their business?" Rumble scoffed, grabbing his brother's arm and turning to walk away.

_Slag, _Swindle quickly stood upright and called, "Wait, wait!" The twins turned around to face him again. He reached into his subspace and drew out the electric whip with a grin, "Wanna play a game? It's called _keep away_."

(...)

"Rumble, _run!_" Frenzy screamed, skidding around a corner and nearly falling, his brother hot on his heels. There was an enraged roar from behind, prompting them to pump their arms and legs faster as their panic spiked.

Frenzy risked a glance behind him and nearly stumbled as Vortex dashed around the corner they'd just turned. Rumble, who was slowly starting to fall behind, held the electric whip in a tight grip as he tried to go faster. "Catch!" He yelled, throwing it ahead. Frenzy's hand whipped out and grabbed the whip from the air. Now unhindered by the surprisingly heavy object, Rumble was able to catch up, cooling fans working hard as he vented heavily.

_:We need to get rid of this thing!: _Rumble gasped through their twin bond.

_:I know! You see any energy signatures up ahead?: _

Rumble was silent for a minute as he scanned. Despite his exhaustion, his face lit up with a grin as he found someone. _:Target is down the hall to our left. Escape hatch 243 is open. Throw the whip at him and get in!:_

_:Got it!:_

"You stupid little fraggers, give it back!" Vortex screamed, his heavy footsteps getting closer and closer. The twins didn't need to be telepathic like Soundwave to know that if he caught him, bad things would happen. _Very _bad things.

With no small amount of relief, the cassettes turned down the selected hall and Frenzy launched the whip into the air, dropping down and sliding into a low to the ground air vent. Rumble called out, "Catch and keep away!" before he too disappeared into the safety of the vent. At the same moment, Vortex wheeled around the corner with a snarl, rage lighting his optic band. Not knowing what else to do and recognizing a chance for fun when he saw one, Skywarp snatched the whip and teleported.

It wasn't often that Thundercracker and Starscream could sit down together and enjoy a cube. Their shifts never happened to coincide and Skywarp was always around to divert Thundercracker's attention. When they could, it was a calming experience for both of them. For once, Starscream wouldn't rant about how he could lead the Decepticons so much better than that old buckethead Megatron, but instead talk about his scientific progress. Thundercracker would patiently listen and politely ask questions, not because he was interested, but because it was nice to see his friend happy about something. There was too much anger and negativity in the base for Thundercracker's liking.

"I was thinking about tinkering with my null rays." Starscream mused to himself, only half talking to Thundercracker. The blue seeker nodded absently and took a sip of the mid-grade energon, stretching back and reclining on the berth. They were in his room; Starscream was sitting backwards on Thundercracker's desk chair, rolling his energon around in its cube. He had a thoughtful, almost peaceful expression on his face. Thundercracker was glad to see it.

"What are you going to do with them?" Thundercracker asked.

"I haven't decided. I was going to go to my lab and take them apart and go from there." Starscream flicked his wings once and took a drink. It wasn't the best energon, but it was better than what the Decepticons had had recently. If Starscream had thought he could spare the high-grade from his secret cache, he would have brought it, but as it were, there were only a few cubes left. Thundercracker may have been his trine mate, but high-grade was a different matter altogether.

"Sounds like as good a plan as any," Thundercracker noted. "Let me know if you change anything. Primus knows we need any advantage we can get."

Starscream hummed in agreement and stretched his arms, content to just sit there. His mind was already back in his lab, dissecting his weapon and going over the possibilities. Something occurred to him and he turned to Thundercracker, "What if I-"

With a pop and flash of purple, Skywarp appeared in the center of the room with a wild grin, "Holy frag!" He exclaimed, rushing over to hop on the berth Thundercracker was lounging on. The larger seeker quickly moved to avoid getting sat upon. "You guys will not believe-"

"Sky_warp!_" Starscream screeched, tossing aside his cube and jumping to his feet in outrage. Thundercracker sighed and knew his good time was over. "Get out!"

Skywarp stuck out his glossa, "It's not your room, you can't boss me around."

Starscream turned to Thundercracker, who didn't meet his gaze. "What do you want, Skywarp?" The blue seeker asked wearily. He ignored Starscream's betrayed look.

The grin instantly returned to the teleporter's face. He held up an item that looked suspiciously like a coiled up whip. "So Rumble and Frenzy were playing this game, and-"

"If it involves you, a whip, and a game, then count me out." Starscream deadpanned, already pushing his way passed Skywarp to head to the door. If his time with Thundercracker was over, he was going to head to his lab and start on his null ray project.

His blue hand had barely touched the access panel to the door when an insane screaming echoed down the halls. While it wasn't exactly a new occurrence for the Nemesis, it made Starscream pause.

"Uh oh," Skywarp said, scooting closer to Thundercracker.

"'Uh oh'?" Starscream demanded, "What 'uh oh'?"

"Starscream, come here." Skywarp said quietly, uncharacteristically serious.

"Why? What's going on?"

No one had a chance to reply. The door blew inward, sending Starscream flying back into the wall with a scream. Vortex appeared out of the smoke, an insane glint to his optic band as he cackled. The cannon he was holding only served to further worry the three seekers. "Skywarp!" Starscream shrieked in a panic. The purple seeker grabbed Thundercracker's hand and lurched off the berth to grab onto Starscream's leg. Right as Vortex's cannon went off a second time, he teleported.

Starscream landed on something hard and warm. He groaned, keeping his optics offlined and reached up to rub a sore spot on his helm. He hit that wall pretty hard…

"What the frag?" A deep voice snarled, sending Starscream's optics flying open. He whipped around and stared at what he'd landed on with disbelief.

He was seated firmly in Megatron's lap.

On his throne.

In front of everybody.

Screeching, he scrambled from his new perch and onto the floor. "Skywarp!" he yelled angrily.

"Sorry!" The purple seeker gasped, scrambling to his feet. He and Thundercracker had landed on either side of the throne. "Sorry, sorry!"

"Skywarp?" Rumble called, stepping out from behind Soundwave where he and his twin had been hiding after they'd navigated their way through the ventilation system. "Did you pass it on?"

"Aw, shit." Skywarp snarled, glaring at the whip in his hand. He'd meant to tell his trine mates about the game and then hide it in the med bay, but he didn't get that far.

The cassette twins started clawing at Soundwave's legs, demanding to be let back in his chest compartment. Starscream began shouting at Skywarp while Thundercracker tried to keep the peace between the two. Blast Off and Brawl stared suspiciously at the whip Skywarp was holding, silently asking each other if it was Vortex's missing instrument via comm. Link. Several other Decepticons in the room alternated between snickering at Starscream's sudden landing and wondering what was happening. No one noticed Megatron rise from his throne, or the angry glint in his optics.

"**ENOUGH!**" He barked. Silence quickly fell over the members of the room as the attention turned to their commander. "What is the meaning of this?" He turned his hard gaze to Skywarp, guessing the purple seeker had something to do with it.

"I-" Skywarp began, only to get cut off by the door to the command center exploding. Vortex stormed in with the cannon and roared in rage. He pointed it right at Skywarp over Megatron's left shoulder and fired it up.

Megatron didn't hesitate.

With the skill and reflexes born of millennia of war, Megatron raised his massive arm cannon and fired. The blast his Vortex square in the chest, sending him flying back and sliding into the hallway, making the floor slick with energon. Brawl jerked forward but one steely glare from Megatron halted him.

But neither Blast Off nor Brawl needed to see Vortex to know he was dying.

* * *

Even when the faith in him had been abandoned, Primus never stopped watching.

He was with his children when the bulk of both armies had abandoned their home planet. He hadn't left their sides when they laid in stasis for four million years, nor had he left them when the war spread to another, younger planet. Even as the destruction played out before his very optics, he never let go of the hope that perhaps one day, they might realize that this fighting and killing was pointless and end it.

He'd long accepted there was nothing he could have done to prevent the war. He could have tried, but the peace and freedom that would have been born from his intervention would not have been true. In all honesty, the god had thought the war wouldn't last. He'd thought they could work out their differences and be a stronger community for it.

Primus couldn't remember ever being more wrong.

As a higher being in control of an entire species, he had a lot of powers, but deciding who lived and died wasn't one of them. That was beyond his help, written in the stars. Primus couldn't change that, no matter how much he wanted to. He'd seen many good mechs die and several horrible and twisted sparks live to see the light of the next day. Despite that, he didn't believe any of his children were truly evil. Some had been misdirected and fueled by the pain of recent loss while others had tried to serve their own form of vigilante justice, but he felt none had understood what they were doing. Perhaps that was his fault. He was supposed to be guiding them, but instead he sat back and idly watched while millions were killed in cold energon. It was his inactivity that had caused the catastrophes that would go down in record books, provided anyone was left to write them.

His optics went down to his chosen matrix bearer and watched as they squabbled like sparklings over trivial matters that would be forgotten in a day and brought back the next week. It was the same for the adversary of his chosen; they fought themselves for no other reason than to cause pain.

Primus wondered if, in his inactivity, Unicron had taken his place in whispering encouragements in their audios. These were not his children. Optimus Prime was not his remembered Orion Pax, who lived on curiosity and the betterment of others. Megatron was no longer anything like Megatronus, who had once held open a collapsed mine shaft for several hours on his own just to ensure his comrades were able to reach safety. Now he beat on his own second in command until the winged mech cried out in his dreams. Everyone had been twisted and warped by more than the bombs and firepower promised by cruel weapons designed to hurt and kill- they had been changed on a spiritual level. Despite certain outward appearances, there were no more innocents. Everyone had killed, forced into the mindset that it was kill or be killed. Spirits had been broken until bitter hatred for the enemy was all that was left. In the beginning, the fighting had been for a purpose but that had changed the moment they'd awoken on another planet and sill the bloodshed continued. It was no longer about Cybertron. It was about eradicating the other team.

In that moment, he was sure he had lost them all. They were no longer his children.

"What have you done?" He whispered to them, and for one semblance of a moment, he thought they'd heard him. His hope fled the next instant as he witnessed a flash of purple that momentarily lit the command center of the underwater Nemesis. A body flew backward and the familiar sight of energon began to leak from underneath the unmoving frame.

_Megatronus, what have you done? _

It shouldn't have been a shock. It had seemed as though the helicopter was pointing the cannon at the warlord, and he'd reacted. The cold, detached look that came upon the silver tyrant's face was unexpected, however; when he fought, there was usually a savage light that gleamed in his optics, not that uncaring expression he wore just then. He'd just shot one of his own _soldiers_- was there no remorse?

No.

Millennia had passed without proper guidance from their god, and that was the result. Sparkless killing done between those with no morals. Primus vowed then, not another spark would fade as a result of that damned war. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Primus projected himself down to the energon storage room of the Autobots' Ark. The pink cubes glowed softly, creating their own light in the dim room. He took a moment to study them and silently apologize before starting a small ethereal blaze in the center of the room. An alarm started to blare almost immediately, thanks to the overly paranoid security director, but it only gave the Autobots enough time to scoff and roll their optics before the first explosion took out the entire west corner of the base. Several sparks were snuffed out immediately, but Primus did not let them join the Well of AllSparks. He had a different plan.

The second explosion sent a pillar of fire shooting down the corridor that led to the scientist's labs. The third blast was the combination of the remaining energon and the many other flammable materials contained in the labs and what was left of the Ark. There would be no survivors.

A deep sense of hurt came over the god, and for a brief moment he hated the Cybertronians for making him do that.

The Nemesis fell in a similar fashion. Who the explosions didn't kill, the crushing pressure of metal walls and millions of gallons of water did. The taste of their terror and panic soured his glossa and Primus knew that no matter what he did, the sounds of their screams for help and the sight of their lifeless bodies would never leave him.

The ordeals had weakened his will more than he wanted to admit. He found he didn't have the courage to go through that again; instead he simply ripped the sparks he needed from Cybertron and deposited them with the rest. The grief had started to fade with the knowledge that it was for their own good but still he found himself reflecting, _no one should ever have to be responsible for the deaths of their children. _

It didn't take long to construct their new home. His imagination came up with the landscape for him and he went with it, molding and shaping with his mind what couldn't be done with his hands. Once he was sure everything was as it should be, he placed the sparks he had in his possession in the new environment and waited, hoping for the best.

_If this doesn't work, then there is no hope left for Cybertron._

* * *

AN: Oh look, you made it to the bottom of this giant chapter. I'm glad you survived :)

Beachcomber's translations:

1. French- "There was a landslide, but I think I'm alright."

2. Danish- "I do not know what just happened."

3. German- "I do not understand!"

4. Portuguese- "No offense, but you know what you're doing?"

5. Welsh- "Do not let this idiot kill me."

I'm sorry if I totally botched any language- I used Google Translate, and we all know how reliable that can be.

Thank you so much for reading, and reviews are love!


	2. Quit blaming Wheeljack

"_I'm waking up_

_I feel it in my bones_

_Enough to make my systems blow_

_Welcome to the new age, to the new age_

_Welcome to the new age, to the new age."_

_-Radioactive, Imagine Dragons_

* * *

Vortex bolted upright in a flurry of panicked movement and frantically grabbed at his chest. Only when his searching fingers met the smooth, intact metal of his chassis instead of the gaping hole he'd expected did he calm slightly. Pain continued to jolt through his chest for a few seconds but slowly it diminished until he was only a little sore. It took a little longer for the helicopter to get his breathing under control, remembering in painful clarity the forceful blast of heat that had knocked him out. He took a second to marvel that he wasn't dead.

_Why is it so dark in here? _He wondered absently, fumbling blindly in the pitch blackness. His searching fingers met something soft beside him that he ran his whole hand across. Vortex growled softly to himself and wondered why his optics weren't working and ran a diagnostic. Maybe something vital had been severed when Megatron shot him. He frowned and felt a little stupider than usual when his body informed him that he'd turned his optic band off.

Groggily, Vortex allowed his optical system to boot up, wincing at the bright light that assaulted his sensors. _Feels like I've got the pit of all hangovers_, he grumbled internally, trying to regain some of his sense. Only once his helm didn't feel as if a spear was getting shoved through it did he take a tentative look around.

He was sitting in a field of grass surrounded by the bodies of his comrades. For a moment he thought they were dead but after a second of careful listening he picked up on the quiet hum of running systems that signified life. Vortex took stock of who was nearest him, his optics roaming over Skywarp, Astrotrain, Dead End, Breakdown, Blast Off, Hook, and Dirge. They were sprawled on the ground in ways that had to be at least semi-painful, with Skywarp lying on his left wing and several of them flat on their faces. If he hadn't been so confused, Vortex would have laughed.

Tired of being the only one awake and looking for answers, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees and started crawling toward his gestalt mate, taking care to trod on every hand or extremity he came across. "Hey," he growled, coming to kneel by Blast Off's helm, "Wake up." When his team mate didn't move, Vortex frowned. "Get _up_!" He grabbed his arm and roughly shook him which only caused the shuttle to snore loudly. Vortex's already limited patience wore out and he shouted, "Awaken, afthead!" and slammed his hand down on the other's face. Blast Off jerked and reflexively swung out a fist, nearly hitting Vortex in the chest.

"Wha?" He mumbled sleepily. He stared passed Vortex and into the bright blue sky, wincing at the effects it had on his optics. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. That's why I woke you." Vortex sniffed haughtily, "What's going on? Where are we?"

"You expect me to be able to think when the first thing I see when I wake up is your ugly mug?" Blast Off muttered as he pushed himself upright. The shuttle rebooted his optics several times and rubbed at his face while he tried to recall why he was laying in the middle of nowhere. Was it high-grade? Had he over-indulged himself…again?

A nearby groan caught both of the Combaticons' attention. "Aw man," Skywarp moaned, staggering to his feet. He swayed and tipped over, unable to catch himself before he toppled onto Hook. The Constructicon grunted and roughly shoved the seeker off him with a snarl.

"Where are we?" Hook asked gruffly.

"How am I supposed to know?" Vortex retorted. He stood and held out a hand to help Blast Off up. He had a vague recollection of a card game with Onslaught but after that everything got all fuzzy. "What do you remember before this?" He asked the shuttle.

"I was in the command center with Brawl." Blast Off replied while he lazily scratched at the side of his face. "And…you were there too, right?"

"I don't know. Was Onslaught there?"

"No, I don't think so."

"You sure?"

"…No."

"So Onslaught could've been there?"

"I guess."

"Then I think I was there, too."

"Would you two shut it?" Astrotrain snarled, nursing a throbbing helm, "Vortex, you were down in the mess hall with Onslaught. You just stood up and stormed out all of a sudden."

The interrogator sucked in a harsh breath. "And then I went to the command center! I remember because Megatron shot me!"

All optics swiveled to Vortex, "Oh slag, that's right!" Dirge exclaimed and pointed, "You just came in out of nowhere with that big aft cannon and tried to shoot Lord Megatron!"

"I wasn't trying to hit him, I was trying to get-" A steely glint passed over his optic band as he spotted his target standing only paces away, "Skywarp."

Blast Off tightly gripped Vortex's upper arm to prevent him from diving at the seeker. "Okay, but where the frag are we now and how did we get here?" He paused and allowed his optics to travel over his teammate's frame, "And why aren't you dead?"

"Your concern is touching," Vortex muttered sarcastically.

Blast Off didn't reply. All around the meadow figures were staggering upright and picking themselves up from the ground. Out of the corner of his optic he caught sight of Megatron rising to his pedes and began to drag Vortex over, hopefully to get some answers.

Unfortunately, they didn't get there first.

"Megatron!" Starscream screeched. The multicolored seeker pushed and shoved his way over to the grey warlord, wings held high in outrage. Thundercracker trailed after him with an outstretched hand, placing it on Starscream's shoulder in an effort to either calm him down or restrain him if need be. The second in command shoved the appendage away as if it offended him and marched up to Megatron so they could argue faceplate to faceplate. The Decepticons around them quickly backed up.

"What did you do now? Where the Pit are we?" Starscream demanded shrilly.

Megatron winced at the high pitched shrieking that never ceased to fly from his second's mouth and took a look around at the unfamiliar scenery. He shrugged and, just because he knew it would bother the other mech, said, "No idea. You're the second in command- aren't _you _supposed to know these things?"

Starscream spluttered just as Megatron predicted, "But- you can't just-! _Fraggit, _this wouldn't happen if _I _were leader! We'd be where we're supposed to be!"

Megatron hummed in absent agreement. His red optics swept the skyline and surrounding area, scanning for any type of familiar landmark or sight. There had to be _something_- a clue as to how they'd arrived, perhaps.

"-And we'd actually _win _sometimes, too-"

Frag, his helm was starting to pound. He was beginning to regret provoking Starscream because his voice was starting to overcome his ability to ignore it. The pounding and lances of helm-splitting pain weren't unlike a hangover and Megatron took a moment to ponder the possibility. Maybe he'd grabbed a few cubes from his private stash, gotten wasted, and proceeded to tell the entire faction that they were going to have a party. He wouldn't be surprised- while it didn't happen often, he did tend to drink more than he should. He could hold his energon, thank you very much, but with high-grade was as rare as it was, they enjoyed it while they had it- and that didn't include drinking in moderation.

"-Incompetent fool, _I _should-"

"If you don't get out of my face in the next three seconds I'm going to hit you so hard you'll _think _you're on the Nemesis."

There was suddenly one less seeker in his personal space.

Megatron took advantage of his height and scanned the crowd of Decepticons. His followers had begun to cluster around him in a big semi-circle, hoping for answers. His optics roved over every face and eventually came to the conclusion that his entire faction was there, though he had no Primus-fragging idea why. He was beginning to doubt his theory of a massive surprise party seeing as his mouth wasn't filled with the bitter tastes of stale energon and regret.

"Soundwave," Megatron barked suddenly, "get a coordinate lock on our location."

"Soundwave: tried. Location: unknown."

Megatron jumped and flashed a glare over his shoulder at his telecommunications officer who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Don't do that," he muttered crossly. It took him a moment to fully compute what his subordinate had said, "Are your circuits scrambled or something? We can't just be _nowhere_."

"Location: unknown." Soundwave repeated insistently.

"I get it!" Megatron snapped. He wasn't irritated at Soundwave; at least, not really. It was painfully obvious he wasn't in control of the situation and that irked him to no end.

Megatron turned his helm slightly to look for Starscream and spotted his flashy paint job hovering behind Thundercracker with a petulant look on his face. Megatron grunted in satisfaction; the more responsible seeker in his command trine would keep track of the little glitch. Starscream couldn't be trusted to be left out of sight for too long. Not for the first time, Megatron wondered why he hadn't appointed Thundercracker as Air Commander before he remembered that it would have upset a seeker pecking order or some slag.

"How long have we been here?" Megatron turned to Soundwave. A flash lit the telepath's visor as he tried and failed to calculate the time they'd been unconscious.

"Unclear."

Megatron puffed out a giant sigh that sounded more like a growl. Starscream shifted to put more of Thundercracker between him and the warlord. Soundwave alternated between waiting for his commander to give him an order and watching Starscream hide behind his trine mate. The warlord's optics still looked hazy and unfocused and Soundwave doubted he was in any sort of mood or state to be handling the situation. Mechs were starting to get restless and with their lot that was never a good thing. Starscream would be of no help either because he seemed to only exist to irritate people so Soundwave did the only thing he could do- he took it upon himself to figure things out.

A quick scan placed all his teammates on a virtual map that landscaped every hill and crevice within a klik of their position. No other life signatures showed up on the map but Soundwave didn't rule out the possibility that Autobots could be nearby. They were like weeds, always popping up where they weren't wanted. The telepath went over his little map for a moment but nothing struck him as being familiar and no odd anomalies stuck out. Perplexed, Soundwave turned his sights outward once again and noticed that the Combaticons had regrouped and were trying and failing to keep an argument quiet. He listened in for a moment but went back to ignoring them once he'd determined their spat about Vortex's tools to be of no importance at the moment.

He was about to turn his gaze away from them when something glinted over Onslaught's shoulder.

Without a word to anybody- not that he said much anyway- Soundwave weaved in and out of the various Decepticons who were just standing around doing nothing (that, at least, was normal). A few of them backed up because they possessed what a less informed person might call manners and others scooted out of the way because they were wary of letting him get too close. Either way, Soundwave got to where he was headed.

"Look, I was just borrowing it. I was going to bring it back, I swear!"

"You told me you didn't have it."

"Well, you see, I knew Vortex wouldn't let me use it if I asked-"

"You lied to me, your commanding officer. Frag, Swindle, I told you if I found out you took it-"

"No one is supposed to touch my stuff." Vortex interrupted with a low growl. Swindle withered. "Bad things happen to mechs who touch my stuff."

"Sorry!" He squeaked.

"'Sorry'?" Brawl asked disbelievingly, "Megatron shot him because of you! You're lucky he isn't dead!"

"Well what the frag do you want me to say? I apologized!"

"That doesn't cut it, afthead!"

Soundwave found it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the imbeciles the closer he got.

"…what in the Pit were you going to use the whip for anyway?" Blast Off demanded.

Soundwave pushed passed the spluttering Swindle and set his sights on the area the sparkle had come from. He was aware that the gestalt had stopped talking in order to watch what he was doing but he didn't particularly care. What he'd seen almost looked like a-

"Hey, is that a fence?"

"Swindle, don't try to change the subject-"

"No Onslaught, I'm serious. Look! It's a fraggin fence!"

Starscream, perhaps sensing that someone was doing something useful without him, zipped over and shoved his way to stand in front of the gestalt. One of his wings fwapped Soundwave in the face and he recoiled, irritated.

"Megatron, look what I found!" he shouted with glee. Starscream tilted his face to the sky in pride as Megatron strode over and screeched when the bigger mech swatted him to the side with a thick arm.

Lord Megatron squinted and used a hand to shield his sensitive optics from the way-too-damn-bright sun. It took a moment for him to spot the source of the commotion and when he did, he couldn't help but be a little dissapointed. The fence was only barely visible through the thick trees across the meadow and that was because of the shining, spotless metal it was made of. It appeared to be more for decoration than protection because something that thin and pretty couldn't possibly be strong enough to stop anyone from simply knocking it over.

Despite the flimsy nature of the object Megatron couldn't help but be curious. "For what do fences lead to?" he mused aloud.

"Cattle." Swindle answered seriously, "Fences lead to cattle."

Megatron sneered, "No, you imbecile, fences lead to gates. We're going to find the ga-"

"We're going to find the gate!" Starscream inturrupted loudly, "You all heard, it was my idea!"

The Decepticons went on their merry way to find the aformentioned gate after Thundercracker helped Starscream pull his helm out of the imprint in ground.

* * *

Hound found that his senses were quite blurred when he came to. His center of gravity was off and there was something pressing against his pedes- oh. A wave of sleepiness hit him and he fought the urge to go back to sleep seeing as he wasn't actually lying down. "Whas'goinon?" He mumbled. His fuzzy optics were just able to make out the vague shape of someone standing beside him.

"We're in a forest," came Jazz's helpful voice. Hound frowned to himself and decided he hadn't really woken up enough to understand what he meant.

"Come on buddy, time to wake up." Jazz grabbed the scout's arm and pulled him away from the tree he'd been leaning against, forcing him to find his own balance or risk falling over. Hound groaned in protest but stood anyway and rebooted his optics several times to get them clear and focused.

"Woah," He breathed. His neck cables craned painfully as he tried to get a better look at the sight above him.

Thick brown tree trunks shot into the sky all around them, the abundant foliage coming from the treetops almost completely blocking out the light from above. Yellow dapples of sunlight shone through the small gaps between the leaves and Hound gaped in amazement, sure he was looking at possibly the largest trees on Earth. He placed a hand on the trunk he'd previously leaned on for support and continued to look around in slack-jawed wonder. Hound quickly noted that there were no chirping birds and the air was absent of the rustling that normally came with wildlife. The fog was beginning to lift from his processor and the bright splashes of color that were his teammates scattered among the giant trees came into focus.

"Jazz," he asked slowly, "_why _are we in a forest?"

"Well," the saboteur replied slowly, "We're still trying to figure that out."

Hound's audios crackled and reset themselves and he caught wind of the brewing argument. Together he and Jazz made their way over to where the rest of the Autobot forces were gathered. Prime was standing in the middle of them, looking a little lost and confused.

"-As much as I would have _loved _to be the cause of this, I didn't do anything!" Sideswipe protested vehemently. Sunstreaker stood silently beside him, casting a dark glare at anyone who stared for too long.

"That's a bunch of slag, and you know it!" Cliffjumper shouted. The red mini-bot stood on the tips of his pedes to try to seem taller, "Tell us how to get back!"

"Yeah, man." Blaster sighed, "I just wanna get back to the base."

"It's my fragging day off!" Sideswipe shouted, "I want to get back to the base too, but I have no idea where it is!"

"Everyone calm down." Optimus commanded. His deep, reassuring voice set tempers at ease and Cliffjumper backed away sullenly. "If Sideswipe says he did not do anything, I believe him." He turned to the Lamborghini for confirmation. Sideswipe nodded vigorously with wide, innocent optics.

Satisfied, Optimus looked to Jazz, "I want to know where we are, who's here, and if anyone knows why."

The saboteur nodded, "You got it." He began to weave in between his teammates, asking questions and taking names.

Hound tried to remember what he had been doing before he'd woken up. He didn't remember ever falling into recharge. The last thing he knew, he had been waiting in the control center with Prowl. Sunstreaker was late for their patrol, he recalled, and Prowl went to go get him. He'd started talking to Tracks while he waited and they'd gotten onto the topic of how to clean dirt from various nooks and crannies on their chassis when Sunstreaker arrived, and then…

_A bright flash of yellow caught Hound's optics and he turned to see Sunstreaker stomp into the room. The frontliner made a beeline for him and Hound felt more than saw Tracks straighten up and subtly strike a pose to show off his body._

"_Alright," Sunstreaker grumbled, not even glancing at Tracks, "Let's get this damn patrol out of the-" _

_The rest of his sentence was drowned out as the security alarms flared to life and filled the halls with their incessant screeching. The already fragged off frontliner gnashed his denta together and opened his mouth to roar for someone to shut the slagging things off when the first tremor rocked the foundation of all they knew._

_Hound was knocked to the ground by the force of the blast. For one calm, peaceful moment he thought things were just as they'd always been- Red Alert was spazzing out and Wheeljack's experiments were causing bodily harm left and right. _

_Something heavy fell across his back, pinning him to the ground. It moved and Hound realized that Tracks must have lost his balance and fell on top of him. The other mech wriggled and tried to get up but the floor, the walls, the ceiling, everything was shaking, rattling, tumbling, crumbling around them- _

_Another enormous displacement of sound signified the second explosion and for the first time Hound began to fear for his life. He managed to dislodge Tracks and got to his hands and knees to look up. His optics widened in terror and trained themselves on the doorway and the corridor beyond it. An all-consuming pillar of red and orange was rushing at them from the end of the hallway, burning and destroying everything in its wake. There was no time for thoughts or actions_ _before the fire reached him and everything became a vortex of pain and heat- and then he was_

_oh_

_so _

…_tired… _

A hand came down on Hound's shoulder and he jerked back to the present with a startled gasp. Beachcomber stood beside him, staring at the foliage above them. "I've never seen trees this big," he said slowly.

"Me neither," Hound agreed breathlessly. His attention was drawn to the bark of the colossal trees, which was deep brown in color and rough in texture. He scraped his hand across it and dug his fingers in slightly to check the strength of the wood. To his surprise, it didn't budge. The scout frowned and pressed his digits harder into the surface and took a step closer when the trunk stayed strong and refused to buckle. "Hey Beachcomber, look at this."

Together they poked and prodded at the tree and came to the realization that it wasn't actually made of wood at all. A closer look revealed it to be a sort of metal Hound hadn't ever seen before. It was strong and Beachcomber conducted a quick scan that told them that it was, in fact, living, just like a normal tree. "What on Cybertron?"

"I thought something was odd," Beachcomber mused, "Look at how big everything is. It's our size."

A quick look around told Hound he was speaking the truth. The grass beneath their pedes was longer than it should have been and Beachcomber quickly confirmed that it wasn't organic. The stalks were made of small metal rods and the blades themselves were composed of some sort of silicon-like material. It was soft and flexible and completely strange.

Hound shook his helm in wonder, "I've never seen anything like this in my life," he said. Beachcomber hummed lowly in agreement. Behind them voices raised in pitch and volume and they picked out Cliffjumper's furious yelling and heard Sideswipe calmly inform the mech that if he didn't back up he was going to get decked in the face. Things quieted down after that but Hound paid it no mind and picked a piece of not-grass from the ground and held it in front of his optics. "We need to find Wheeljack."

Beachcomber looked at him strangely, "Why's that?"

"He did something," Hound stated firmly, rising to stand to his full height. Beachcomber followed suit. "The last thing I remember is an explosion, and we all know how those two go hand in hand. Maybe he built something that malfunctioned and sent us here."

Beachcomber nodded in a passive manner, "Sounds like as good a plan as any."

They were about to start their search but didn't get more than a few feet when an incoherent screaming split the air. The Autobots froze for a moment and then dashed over to where the sound was coming from. Hound was separated from Beachcomber by the crowd of Autobots who were rushing over to find out what was going on. Hound pushed his way passed a few others to get a closer look but was forced to stop as Ironhide got in front of him and stopped. He settled for standing on the tips of his pedes to peer over the taller mech.

Inferno had a hold of Red Alert by the arms as the security director screeched and flailed. The larger bot was trying to force his smaller friend to the ground but his panic attack had lent him just enough strength to fend him off.

"Get off! Let go of me!" Red Alert screamed. One of his fists caught Inferno in the jaw but the rescue bot's grip didn't falter an inch.

"Red, calm down!" he shouted into his audio, "It's me! It's Inferno!"

Red Alert kicked at the ground and managed to pry one of the hands off him and nearly darted away. He was roughly jerked back into the crushing grip and the top of his helm shot out a spark as he continued to panic to near-glitch levels.

"Red, just- stop.. for a minute…RATCHET!" Inferno roared.

The crowd began to split on the opposite side of the ring as the CMO pushed and shoved his way to the center. "Get out of my way!" he shouted. He rushed toward Red Alert and quickly pulled a hypodermic needle from subspace. Inferno wrapped his arm around Red Alert's waist and pulled his back firmly against his chassis and wound his other arm across the security director's chest, effectively pinning his arms to his side. Red Alert howled and continued to thrash as best he could and nearly kicked Ratchet in the chest. The medic swiftly darted out of the way and jabbed Red Alert in the neck cables, draining the needle of fluid as quickly as he dared. Red Alert let loose one more high pitched keen before the medicine did its work and he sagged in Inferno's hold with a low whine.

The silence was almost deafening. "That was only a mild sedative," Ratchet informed them, tucking away the empty needle, "It's not enough to induce recharge. What set him off?"

Inferno carefully lowered Red Alert to the ground. "I don't know. As soon as he woke up and looked around, he started to scream. I don't think he recognized me."

Ratchet nodded once and kneeled, "Red Alert, can you hear me?"

Red Alert hummed and blinked sleepily.

"Good," Ratchet murmured soothingly, "Now, what happened?"

Red Alert mumbled something. Ratchet frowned and leaned forward, "What was that?"

"Shumun wuz in r bayse," he slurred.

Ratchet's optical ridges knitted together in bewilderment and the medic gestured for Optimus to come forward. He kneeled down next to Ratchet and Inferno scooted back a bit to avoid overcrowding the paranoid mech. "Was it a Decepticon?" Ratchet asked patiently. Red Alert shook his helm slowly.

"No Decepticon. 'ere wuz a fire."

"Red Alert, I'm afraid you aren't making much sense." Optimus said, "Where was the fire? Who set it?"

Drowsy blue optics shot to meet Optimus'. Red Alert stared at the red and blue bot before him and something in his processor clicked, recognizing him as his commander. _All threats were to be reported straight to the mech with the highest ranking in the building at the time the breach or faction-threatening action occurred_, Red Alert recalled absently. As security director, it was his job to report back to Optimus.

"There was someone- no, get off," he snapped with newfound lucidity when Inferno tried to keep him from sitting up, "There was someone in the energon storage bay. His image was distorted and I couldn't get the cameras to focus. Naturally I set off the alarm but by that time he'd done something to set a fire. The explosion wiped out all surveillance devices in the west sector. The last thing I remember are the walls coming down." Red's body tensed and he would have leapt up if it hadn't been for Inferno's heavy grip on his upper arms forcing him down. "We had a lot of energon in there! What if it killed us when it went off? What if we're _dead_?"

A hushed but worried whispering broke out among the crowd as Inferno tried to get Red Alert to stop hyperventilating. Mechs turned to one another in panic and confusion and Prime could tell if he didn't do something soon be could be dealing with full scale panic. "That isn't what happened," He interjected loudly. Gradually the masses began to quiet and look to their leader, "There must be another explanation."

"Optimus?" Hound piped up hesitantly, "Are you sure? There was an explosion, I remember it clearly." When no one else spoke, he continued, "I thought it was Wheeljack again, but with what Red Alert said…" He trailed off into silence. He wasn't sure he wanted to continue.

Optimus spoke slowly, "Wheeljack was speaking with me concerning the danger of his experiments. He was nowhere in his lab."

Hound nodded once, not trusting his vocalizer to function properly.

Another rift split the crowd and both Jazz and Prowl appeared. Jazz stepped up to Prime's side and said, "We've got a full headcount of the mechs that were on the Ark. A few of them don't know what's going on and the others keep talking about some kind of explosion."

Prowl's door wings flicked once in what could have been taken as agitation. "Prime, I need to speak with you immediately."

"Hold on a minute," Cliffjumper interrupted hotly, "You can't seriously believe what that nut job is saying, can you? He's a few wires short of a central processor if you catch my drift. He's _always _overreacting and now isn't any different than the other five thousand false alarms. Primus," he grumbled, "I'm tired of just standing around waiting for someone to figure something out. I'm gonna go look for the base." The fiery mini bot spun on his heels and stalked away. After a moment, Gears and Huffer turned and went after him.

Jazz turned to Optimus with a small frown, "You sure that's a good idea? Comm. links aren't clear; I've been getting a lot of static."

Optimus sighed and shook his helm, "I don't know, Jazz. I would think they'd have enough sense to stay within shouting distance."

The smaller mech looked doubtful but didn't say anything.

Prowl politely cleared his vocalizer to regain Optimus' attention. "Sir, we've found something."

(…)

"I hope Spike is okay," Bumblebee said miserably. Bluestreak awkwardly patted his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Bee. He's probably still with Sparkplug or at school or something."

"Yeah, but what if he shows up and we're not there?"

"I'm sure we'll get back in time," Bluestreak replied good naturedly. He and Bumblebee stood a quite a few paces away from the large congregation of Autobots surrounding Optimus. Neither of them were tall or big enough to see over the larger mechs and Red Alert's screaming had freaked them out. They'd figured it would be best to hang back for a while until things started to calm down.

"But what if we don't?" Bumblebee persisted. It was weird to see the usually so cheerful minibot taking on the role of the pessimist.

"Bumblebee, it's going to be okay. Wheeljack probably messed up one of projects again. You remember what happened when he tried to build his own version of a spacebridge, right? We ended up somewhere in Russia and it took Skyfire three days to get a lock on our location, which ended up being pointless anyway because he ran out of energon just as he got there and then _he _was stranded and we couldn't contact base, which really sucked because Prowl probably thought we were all dead, but it worked out in the end because the Decepticons found us and when we started fighting Windcharger got knocked in the helm so hard his locator beacon turned online and Prowl was able to get some energon to us so Skyfire could bring us home, and that only took an extra four days so even in the worst case scenario it should only take us a week to get back and Spike is used to us being gone for weeks sometimes." he shrugged, "It's not a big deal."

Bumblebee blinked. Bluestreak smiled.

"So you think Wheeljack did this?"

Bluestreak hesitated for a moment, "I don't know. I think everyone blames him for stuff they don't understand because his brand of chaos is particularly unpredictable. This might be his fault, and it might not be. Either way, I'm sure we'll be home soon."

The minibot looked somewhat reassured and Bluestreak mentally patted himself on the back for being a good friend.

In all truth, Bluestreak didn't know what was happening. He'd just been standing around watching Rodimus and the Aerialbots spar and the next thing he knew, both he and everyone else who'd been in the rec. room were standing in the forest. It was one of the most disorienting things he'd ever experienced.

Either way, he wasn't too worried. No one was hurt, which was a miracle in itself, and they had Prowl with them. Prowl always knew what to do. Bluestreak was sure the larger Praxian would get things under control soon, if he hadn't already.

At a loss for what else to do, Bluestreak hummed happily to himself and started looking around. There wasn't really much to look at; trees and dirt and grass. It wasn't very interesting to him, although he was sure Hound had to be having a blast.

Taken away by his own cheerful tune, it took Bluestreak several moments to realize what his gaze had settled mindlessly upon. "Wha?" he murmured when he snapped to. "Look at that, Bee!"

Bumblebee squinted in the direction the Praxian indicated, "What? I can't see anything!"

"C'mon!" He grabbed Bumblebee's hand and tugged him along, away from the rest of the faction. "There, you see now?"

Bumblebee, in fact, did see.

It was more than twice Bluestreak's size. The excited Praxian darted right up to the shining metal and placed a careful hand on it. His optics grew wider with childlike wonder at the beauty crafted into such as simple thing. Along the top of the fence were elegant swirls crafted in gold and an almost light blue colored metal he couldn't identify. The bars that ran vertically up and down seemed to shoot straight out from the groud; there was no base or post that Bluestreak could see. He cooed at the sparkling metal and slowly reached out a digit to stroke it. It was slick and smooth and sent little shivers of delight trembling through his door wings.

"I wonder who built it?" Bumblebee murmured. He rapped against one of the bars lightly and Bluestreak nearly shrieked with delight when it produced a musical ring. "Almost looks like something from the Crystal Gardens."

Bluestreak's immediate attention was on him, "You remember the Crystal Gardens?"

Bumblebee nodded, "Yeah, I was there with my creators a few times before everything went bad."

Bluestreak breathed a tiny "wow" and continued to fawn over the pretty metal.

"Shouldn't we tell Optimus about this?"

"Wha- oh. Yeah, I guess." Bluestreak glanced to the left and did a small double take, "Looks like he already knows!"

Several paces away Optimus, Jazz, Prowl, Cliffjumper, the twins, and a few other minibots were speaking in quiet tones, standing with their backs to the ornate fence. Bluestreak caught the words, "follow," and "has to lead somewhere," in the conversation and then felt slightly guilty for eavesdropping. He nudged Bumblebee, "Let's check it out."

The pair began to walk over to their commanders. Unseen by them, a pair of golden optics flashed brightly and a silvery form swirled through the air and away from the Autobots.

* * *

AN: Primus, it shouldn't take five months for me to update something. Ever. If that _ever_ happens again feel free to bitch slap me via the internet. In other news, I have a beta now, the awesome Inkfamy. Hopefully she'll be able to keep me from letting this go for so long.

Also, these are the longest chapters I've ever written for anything. So I ask- do you like long chapters, or should I shorten them a bit? You know, assuming I have any readers left.


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